


Strike Three

by Juniper_Tree



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Baseball, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angry Keith (Voltron), Banter, Coach Allura, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Light Angst, M/M, Minor Violence, Modern Era, Slow Burn, They'd look great in baseball uniforms okay, klance, professional baseball
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-17
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-28 18:35:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15712779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Juniper_Tree/pseuds/Juniper_Tree
Summary: Just a lighthearted baseball AU that nobody asked for because it looks pretty dern cute in my head. THINK OF THE UNIFORMS.





	1. Curveball

**Author's Note:**

> I had no intention of writing this until it was already written. It's out of my hands now haha. Help. I only know the basics about baseball. Like, I watched Moneyball once and sometimes I watch the Cubs. Which, if anyone's wondering, my style inspiration for Keith is actual Javier Baez. 
> 
> Also, it's been a while since I watched a sports anime, and I think I'm craving one. So this is what happens, I guess.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Lions gain a new player with a bit of a history. It doesn't go over smoothly with Lance.

“We picked up _who_ ?” Lance asked incredulously.   
  
Allura tapped her pen on her clipboard and sighed. “Lance, you know this isn’t up to me. Plus, he’s a good player-“   
  
“Yeah, a good player who’s gotten kicked out of three games so far for trying to _fight_ people.” Lance crossed his arms over his chest. “It’ll be months before we can get him to simmer down from his last little _incident_.”

“C’mon Lance, at least meet the guy first.” Shiro laid a hand on Lance’s shoulder and shrugged in Allura’s direction. “Maybe he’s already cooled off.”

Lance let out a throaty laugh.”Shiro, we watched that game together. He tackled the first baseman _on his own team_ .” Lance held his palms up towards the ceiling. “Seriously, who _does_ that?”

Allura dug her hand into her hip. “Enough, Lance. That’s all in the past from where I’m concerned, and I expect you to be open-minded about this.” Allura looked back down at her clipboard, frowning. “Especially since it looks like he’ll be starting second base.”

“ _What_ ?” Lance yelped. He stepped forward, reaching for the clipboard. “No, no, no, he’s _starting_? There has to be someone else.”

“Adam’s out with a fractured wrist, you know that.” Allura explained.

“What about Shay?” Lance offered.

Allura made a face. “You’re kidding, right? She’s the best relief pitcher we’ve got, we can’t put her on second.”

Shiro put his hand to his shoulder instinctively. He’d injured it last season from pitching too much and the summer had been a long road of rehab for him. “She’s amazing at closing out games, Lance, and we’ll probably need her more this time around.”

Lance rolled his eyes, making an exasperated noise. “Is Coran doing this to torture me? That’s it, isn’t it?” He leaned in and narrowed his eyes at Allura. “It's some kind of test and I _know_ it.” He pointed a finger at Keith’s name on the roster. “I’m onto you.”

Allura chuckled and dropped her mouth open with a scoff. “I’m your coach, Lance, not some evil mastermind.”

“But _Coran-_ “ Lance started.

Shiro flicked Lance’s baseball cap down in front of his eyes. “Is our gracious team _owner_ , and also not an evil mastermind.” He finished, smiling as Lance shifted his hat back on his head. “Now stop pouting and go take a shower.”

Lance made a face and crossed his arms defiantly . “I wasn’t pouting! I was _discussing._ ”

“Are you seriously pouting about not pouting?” Allura asked, her eyebrows raising as she smiled.

Shiro laughed and looked her direction. “He definitely is.”

Lance let out a disgruntled noise and turned on his heel. As he started to walk away he waved a hand in the air. “Fine, fine, you all win, see you tomorrow.”

“With a better attitude!” Allura called after him.

Lance looked over his shoulder. His eyes were narrowed, but his lips pushed into a tight half smile. “We’ll see, Allura, we’ll see.”

 

***

 

Lance arrived early for practice the next morning. When he wasn’t too busy or too tired he liked to get to the field before everyone else, before the nightly frost lifted off of the freshly mowed grass.

He had played a lot of games of baseball at this point. Most of them were at night, when the city was alive and bustling around with the noise of cars and conversations at every corner. In the field it was even louder. Lance was a small town kid and it had taken him a while to adjust to the roar of the crowds at every game. He really didn’t go to a big stadium game until he was seventeen years old. Even that had only happened because a recruiter bought tickets for him, hoping to win him over. Which _almost_ worked.

The baseball fields he remembered from his childhood were always the quiet kind. He could hear the soft crunch of dirt under his cleats, the stretch of his leather glove, the wind rolling across miles of farmland. Most importantly, the ever-satisfying _clang_ of the bat on baseball contact, echoing well past the outfield. He wished all games could be quiet like that.

It turned out though, that people actually wanted to _watch_ him play, which was weird at first. _Lance_ , who never sorted his laundry and thought it was acceptable to answer interview questions with finger guns. _Lance_ , who couldn’t figure out how to manage his hair poking up in the back unless he had a hat smushed on top of it. _Lance_ , who put fifteen pieces of gum in his mouth just last week because Hunk told him he couldn’t. People _cheered_ for him. Made signs even. Turns out the goofy, small-town kid was pretty damn good at playing first base.

So he had ended up being picked for the Lions. More than that, he had started _playing_ for the Lions. As an actual starter. Lance had never dreamed that he would be so lucky.

He stared out at his field, his _home_ field. Red and blue accents dotted the empty stands. Crisp lines of grass laid across the outfield. A breeze rolled in from the river, just beyond the outside of the stadium, behind right field.

Lance spread his arms out in a stretch and closed his eyes, breathing in the morning-

_SMACK_

Lance let out a short, pained yell as he felt a solid object _thunk_ into his face. His eye, specifically. His hands flew up to his face and he stumbled backwards, dropping into a sit so that he wouldn’t topple over.

“ _Ow_ .” He said to himself. “What the _hell-_ “

He squinted his left eye open, leaving the right one shut, since it would probably be swollen shut anyway in about thirty seconds. He looked around, and found his answer lying in the dirt a few feet away from him. It was a baseball. Makes sense. That would be the most likely culprit, since he was, like, _in_ a baseball field.

In a moment he heard the sound of cleats jogging up to him, which answered his next question of “Where did the hell did that even come from?” Except not really, because they were cleats he didn’t recognize. Entirely black with bright red accents, definitely not someone on his team. He followed the figure upward with his eyes- correction, his ONE eye- until he met the gaze of deep blue-gray eyes staring back at him between tufts of black hair. _Keith._

“Why didn’t you catch it?” Keith asked plainly.

Lance stared at him dumbly and pointed at his chest. “Why didn’t _I_ catch it? Well for starters, I didn’t even know you were about to throw a baseball at my face. Could’ve used a warning there, _bud_.”

Keith’s brow furrowed, “What? You _told_ me to.”

Lance dropped his hands into the dirt and began sliding them underneath himself to stand up. “How could I have told you to, when I _didn’t even know you were there_.” Lance raised an eyebrow in Keith’s direction.

Keith took a step back and crossed his arms. “Whatever, you made that hand motion. The one that means ‘hey, throw the ball to me,’ right?”

“Oh, you mean the one I did WITH MY EYES CLOSED?” Lance threw his hands up, digging his cleat into the dirt.

Keith threw his own hands up in response. “How was I supposed to know that?”

“I dunno, but maybe you should thinking twice before going around _hitting_ people all the time.” Lance retorted. He hardened his expression and locked eyes with Keith meaningfully, expecting to get his aggression reflected back at him. Instead Keith’s eyebrows turned outward softly, his shoulders slumping slightly.

As Keith looked away Lance saw a flash of… _something_ across his face, his mouth twisted into a frown. Keith slid his foot back another step, but this one looked just the tiniest bit off balance. He took in a breath to say something, but snapped his mouth shut before it could come out.

Frustrated, Keith smacked his fist into his glove, pulling it off in an instant and throwing it onto the ground, hard enough so that a puff of dirt flew up around it. He turned sharply towards the dugout and stalked off the field.

Lance was left alone in the field. Except now, after all of whatever _that_ was, the silence of his quiet morning seemed to weigh on him. His head was still ringing and his eye was definitely starting to swell up now.

He should get ice, but he didn’t want to risk running into Keith again in the locker room, so he decided to wait him out a bit. He shuffled over to the dugout, abandoning Keith’s glove in the dirt and landing heavily on the bench.

Lance was usually pretty even-tempered, but something about Keith set him on edge. Probably the fact that he had leveled the last first baseman he had played with, and Lance was pretty determined to _not_ have that happen to him. (Although he was off to an awful start).

Keith’s fight on his other team was unreal. Mostly because it had happened randomly during the middle of the game. Between pitches in a relatively uneventful seventh inning. It looked like something in him snapped, or something set him off, or _who knows_ because one second he was standing in position and in the next he had a guy pinned into the dirt, his arm pulled back in about to deck him in the face.

Lance groaned, dropping his head into his hands and tapping his feet anxiously in the dirt.

 _Good going, Lance, you managed to piss off the angriest guy in baseball_.

Allura was going to be livid.


	2. Rain Delay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance is snarky to basically everyone and has to have consequences. A rainstorm blows through the city.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What! Where's the baseball action! 
> 
> I have no idea. I promise I haven't forgotten about it. It'll come back soon lol.

Lance felt a finger poking insistently onto his shoulder as he stared up at the ceiling. “Lance,” Pidge said in a sing-song voice, “Allura’s looking for you.”

Lance slid the ice pack down off his face and rolled his eyes her direction. “Tell her I’m busy lifting.”

Pidged scrunched in her eyebrows. “I don’t think lying on a bench in the weight room counts as lifting.” She leaned in, taking a closer look at the swelling above Lance’s cheekbone. She reached out a finger to poke at it curiously. “Whoa, what happened to your face?”

Lance swatted her finger away. “Don’t- don’t touch it, _geez._ ” He gripped the edge of the bench and sat up, knocking his hat to the floor in the process. He grabbed it by the brim and and dropped it on his head. “Keith Kogane happened to me.”

Pidge straightened up in surprise. “He _punched_ you already? I wasn’t expecting that until at least like, three weeks in or something.” She squinted to get a better look at the bruising. “What’d you to do piss him off?”

“ _Nothing,”_ Lance growled. “And he didn’t punch me, he threw a ball at my face, so you can stop looking so excited.”

Pidge relaxed her shoulders a bit, but continued staring at the swollen part of Lance’s face. “Why’d he throw a ball at you?” She dipped her head to catch better lighting off of Lance’s skin. After a pause she met Lance’s eyes again, but instead looked confused. “Also, why didn’t you just catch it?”

“My eyes were closed!” Lance said, exasperated at that question for the second time today.

“Why were-” Pidge started to probe, but then waved a hand. “You know what, doesn’t matter. But seriously, Allura’s on a manhunt, and you should really go find her.”

Lance swung his feet over the bench and sighed. “Yeah, yeah I know. I was just-”

“Hiding?” Pidge interrupted, her lips edged into a smile.

Lance chuckled. “Okay, fine, Pidge. Yes. I was hiding.”

Pidge took a step towards the weight rack. “Thought so.” She picked up a dumbell, double checking the weight with the workout plan she kept on her phone.

Lance should start keeping track of things with his phone. He had a general workout schedule, but he forgot some of the details. Pidge, on the other hand, was probably the most regimented person on the team. Really put the rest of them to shame, and they were pretty dedicated themselves. Lance didn’t think it was even possible for her to cut corners. She was smart, too. As shortstop she managed to almost always make the best decisions, and she had the reflexes to pull off ridiculous plays.

On top of that, she and Matt had an incredible read into each other’s thoughts, probably a result of them growing up together. They’d been playing on the same team since they were were, what? Five years old? It’s not even really _fair_ at that point. As third baseman and shortstop they built up a wonderful sort of security net for the rest of the team. They rarely made errors since they were so in sync all the time. Lance admired them.

Pidge set down her phone to get started and looked over her shoulder. “Oh, by the way, team practice is cancelled today since it started raining. Just do your normal workout stuff.”

Lance nodded as he stepped towards the door. “Thanks, Pidge. See you tomorrow, then.”

 

***

 

“Why didn’t you just catch it?” Allura asked, her mouth opened into a question.

Lance groaned and turned around frustrated, pacing in circles in front of Allura’s desk. “Why does everyone keep asking that? My eyes were _closed_ , Allura, I didn’t know he was _there._ ”

“Well, why did that make _him_ angry?” Allura questioned, her elbows resting on top of her desk. “Also, could you sit down? Your wandering around is stressing me out.”

Lance flopped into the chair and crossed his legs. His arms followed suit and he frowned. “That’s not what made him angry.”

“What did then?” Allura demanded.

Lance pointed insistently to his blackened and swollen eye. “Before we do this, can we just remember that _I’m_ the one who got injured here? In case you didn’t notice I have a black eye now and it-”

 _“Lance-”_ Allura warned, her voice dropping tightly.

“Okay, okay.” Lance huffed out a breath, poking out his jaw so that the air rustled through the strands of hair on his forehead. “I uhh… I told him he should stop hitting people all the time. Or something like that”

Allura let out an _oof_ and dropped her head into her hand. He ponytail fell over her shoulder. “You just _had_ to bring that up, didn’t you? Do you always have to say _everything_ on your mind?”

“I-”

“Don’t answer that.” Allura responded, waving a hand. She pulled it back and rubbed her fingers into her temples. “You know what this means, don’t you?” Lance stared at her blankly. “Seeing as you’re both _adults,_ and seeing as there’s no real damage done-”

Lance leaned forward, opening his mouth to protest, but Allura’s index finger was already up to silence him in anticipation. She glared up from her desk at him. “It’s unfortunate that you have a black eye, but we both know this was an _accident,_ okay?”

Lance settled grumpily back into his chair. “So what do I have to do?”

Allura rolled her eyes like it was obvious. “You have to _apologize,_ Lance.”

 

***

 

Lance dug into his back pocket for the slip of paper Allura had given him with Keith’s address. To apologize _in person._ Lance wanted to apologize by text, but Allura nixed that idea when she remembered how much Lance enjoyed sending gifs to people. Which was ridiculous, because what lightens the mood more than tiny movie-pictures?

So instead he was trudging a half mile through the pouring rain because he a) forgot an umbrella and b) was too proud to go back and ask to borrow Allura’s. Whatever, he decided he _liked_ the rain today anyway. He stuck his chest out as he walked, hoping that everyone driving by in their nice, dry cars would know that he _meant_ to get soaking wet today. He was out here experiencing _nature_ while they listened to talk radio and leached fumes into the air. Or something like that.

When he finally reach Keith’s building, he took the time to double check the street name and number. The building was tall and modern-looking, with high large windows and a fancy-looking balconies. He watched raindrops slide down the glass in front of him, past the reflection of his soaking wet hair plastered to his forehead.

He squinted at himself and tried to fluff some of the hairs against his face. He looked miserably wet. It was starting to get colder too. Luckily, after this little errand he was finally free to go back and take a shower. So time to get this over with. 

Lance shoved his piece of paper into his back pocket and stepped up to the panel on the wall. In one hand he had Keith’s glove, sopping wet from being left outside. With his free hand he punched in the number on his paper, 1-1-0-2. A ringing sound crackled through, followed by a click.

“Hello?” Keith’s voice was hard to hear over the speaker, blending in with the steady sound of the rain.

“It’s uhh, Lance.” He sputtered, his feet making squishing sounds as he shifted on them.

“Who?”

“Lance, Lance McClain. Your teammate?”

Keith was silent for a second before responding. “Did you need something?”

“I have your glove- and uhh-” Lance stretched his head backwards, trying to shake off some of the tension he was building in his neck. He was awful at these things. “Could I come up? I promise I’ll leave like, almost immediately.”

“Whatever,” Keith sighed. “Wait for the door to click. It’s to the right when you reach the eleventh floor.”

Lance made his way up the elevator and found the door to Keith’s apartment, knocking softly until he came to the answer. Lance saw the handle turn and the door swung open.

Keith looked him over slowly, his eyes settling onto the puddle forming at Lance’s feet. “You’re soaking wet.”

Lance looked down at himself. Maybe he should’ve squeezed out his shirt or something before he came up here, not that it would’ve made much of a difference. Now that he thought about it, it was probably rude to ask to be invited inside a nice apartment looking like he just emerged from a sewer drain. Whoops. It was too late to think about that, though.

Not knowing what else to do, Lance held out Keith’s glove. “Here, it’s yours.”

Keith eyed it for a second, watching it drip into his entryway, before grabbing it by the thumb. “Hold on,” he stated. “I’ll be right back.”

Keith turned and Lance watched him walk through his apartment. He took his time alone to peer around at Keith’s place. Most everything was in boxes still, piled up in the living room and on the kitchen island. It looked like he had only taken the time to dig out the essentials. A few plates, a jacket, _an umbrella._ Lance glanced at the fridge, and noticed two pictures stuck to it with magnets. They looked to be the only thing sentimental taken out, before the rest of the unpacking was done. Which was strange, because Keith didn’t strike Lance as a sentimental kind of guy.

The first was an older picture. It was of Keith, but much, much younger. He had a red baseball cap, which was way too big for him, falling down over his eye. A woman, his mom probably, was knelt down on one knee next to him, laughing with a bat held over her shoulder.

The second picture was newer, and Lance recognized it as Keith’s last baseball team, the Serpents. It was him and another player, but not one that Lance recognized. She had her long blonde hair pulled back into a braid. Her arm was squeezed around Keith’s neck, pulling him into a playful headlock. He looked _happy._

The click of a door broke Lance from his staring. Keith emerged out of his bedroom, a towel in his hand. As he was walking he slid his keys off of the counter and into his pocket. When he got close enough he pulled his arm back casually, but then suddenly froze, meeting Lance’s eyes dead-on.

“I’m going to throw this towel at you, are you ready to catch it?” He sneered in Lance’s direction.

Lance gritted his teeth and looked at Keith suspiciously, trying to decide if he was trying to be funny, or if he really was that much of an asshole. “I’m ready.” He stated neutrally.  

Keith flung the towel at him and Lance caught it.

Lance started with his hair, because it was starting to drip from his hair into his eyes, and that was the most annoying part. From there he wrapped it around himself, trying to squeeze the moisture out of his clothes. He fumbled around catching drops for a few more seconds before handing the towel back to Keith, looking defeated. “That uhh-” 

“That did almost nothing.” Keith finished, his face cracking into something that almost looked like a smile.

“Yeah, it really didn’t.” Lance said, shaking his head and squishing his feet up and down. “I mean, maybe my face is dry, but I’m pretty sure my shoes have actual lakes in them.”

“So, about that, why did you walk here in the pouring rain?” Keith ducked his head and scratched a hand behind his ear. “Thanks for the glove, I guess, but it’s not like I need it tonight.”

Lance met his eyes and shoved his hands into his damp pockets. “Allura told me I had to- No, _I_ wanted to say sorry, I guess. For this morning.”

Keith shrugged and leaned his shoulder smoothly into the wall. “Well, your eye looks like shit, so I guess we can call it even.”

Lance nodded slowly at the floor, but then suddenly raised his face to glare at Keith. “Wait, so if my eye looked okay, we’d be _uneven_ still?” He asked, pointing to his puffed up cheek.

Keith tilted his head and crossed his arms. “ _Maybe_.”

“What? You can’t- That’s not-” Lance fumbled, crinkling his eyebrows down and flipping his palms upwards. “Did you just decide to accept my apology based on whether I had a _black eye_ or not?”

Keith pulled his arms in tighter and stifled a laugh. “I accepted it didn’t I? Isn’t that enough for you?”

Lance squished defiantly in his sneakers. “No, of course not! I was trying to be _sincere_ for once.”

“Well maybe you shouldn’t have started by telling me that Allura put you up to this.” Keith responded. He was only smiling slightly, but Lance noticed how his cheeks tensed up, pushing the tiniest amount of playfulness into his eyes.

Lance let out a groan, rolling his head to the side. “ _Jesus_ , I can’t do anything right today.”

Lance looked over Keith and frowned to himself. As far as first impressions go, he had really screwed this one up. Except for whatever reason Keith hadn’t hung onto this morning like Lance expected him to. He looked relaxed, his feet crossed lazily over each other as he leaned easily against the wall. He was a different person than the guy who had stalked angrily off the field this morning. Between that and the pictures on the fridge and the fights on TV, Lance struggled to understand what he was like. At all. Too many pieces didn’t add up. He needed more answers.

“Why aren’t you still mad at me?” Lance blurted out. He surprised himself with his question, and immediately pulled his hand up to smack himself in the forehead. “Wait uhh, don’t answer that-”

“Do you say _everything_ that pops into your head?” Keith responded. Lance looked back at him sheepishly and shrugged. Allura would have a fit if she knew Keith said that to him too. Keith shoved his hands into his pockets and continued. “It’s fine, though. I just didn’t think anyone would be _idiotic_ enough to bring up my last team, especially within the first like, _thirty seconds_ of meeting me.”

“ _Hey-_ ”

Keith held up his hands defensively. “Idiotic isn’t the right word. I know. You just startled me, is all. But now that you’re here-” Keith took a second to look Lance up and down. “Well-”

“Well, _what_?”

Keith grinned mildly. “You look like a stray dog that just got dragged out of the river. I can’t be mad when you look so… _pitiful._ ”

Lance threw his head back, his arms falling to his sides. “I give up. No more apologies from here on out, no matter how scary Allura is. Can you just throw more baseballs at me instead? I think I liked that better.”

“You play first base, right?” Keith asked.

“Right.”

“Then you can count on it.” Keith nodded, digging his keys out of his pocket. Lance stood there for a moment, not sure what else to say. Keith turned back towards the boxes in the apartment, briefly thinking through something. “Look, I would offer you a shower or something, but I haven’t even unpacked the bathroom yet so-“

“Oh, uhm-” Lance got the hint. It was abrupt, but it was probably his own fault for showing up soaking wet. “I can leave, immediately, like I said before.” Lance stepped backwards away from the door and turned towards the elevator. “Guess I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

He nodded at Keith and turned. As he started to shuffle along, his clothes hanging over him sloppily, he felt a hand reach out, giving a light tug on his drenched shirt sleeve.

“Are you serious?” Keith was leaning over slightly, his face turned up towards Lance’s. He looked annoyed a bit, but there was a softness behind it. He let go of Lance’s sleeve and turned to lock his door. “I’m giving you a ride.”

“You don’t have to-” Lance started. But as if on cue, a low thunderous roll crescendo-ed into a loud _CLAP_ outside the building. Lance saw the windows at the end of the hallway flash with lightning. Keith let the incoming storm settle the argument for him, and nodded his head towards the elevator insistently. Lance sighed and tagged along behind him.

The elevator ride was agonizing. Lance had been prepared to hate this Keith guy until he inevitably got traded again for being so hot-headed. This was different than he expected. Way different. He had planned to deal with Keith as some untamed animal. Suddenly, with Keith acting so understanding, and human, and actually kind of _sweet,_ Lance had no idea how to deal with him.

Lance kept his eyes on the elevator floor, watching water droplets gather at his feet. Keith was leaning again, this time into the back corner of the elevator, his elbow resting comfortably on the railing. Lance stayed silent, feeling more and more anxious as he bobbled around conversation topics in his head. Nothing seemed to fit the mood. Everything was a stupid idea, he couldn’t follow up their real, mostly sincere conversation with mundane small talk.

The _ding_ of the elevator on the first floor snapped Lance back to attention. He froze as Keith stepped in front of him, ready to lead him to the car. When he reached the hallway Keith turned over his shoulder.  

“My car’s on the street.” He explained.

Lance nodded absently and stepped forward. As he got closer to Keith he felt the tiniest bit of heat sink into his ears and over to his cheeks.

_Goddamit, Lance._

  
  



End file.
